


I'll Meet You in Hong Kong

by alexxphoenix42



Series: Forever Freebatch [2]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Cuddles, Freebatch - Freeform, Gay Sex, I love Tilda Swinton, Infidelity, M/M, Mentions of real interviews, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Porn, Shower Sex, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexxphoenix42/pseuds/alexxphoenix42
Summary: Benedict and Martin's busy, busy schedules have them grabbing a few nights together in Hong Kong during Ben's Doctor Strange junket. They both have news to share.While this does pick up after the story "Forever 1895," you don't absolutely have to read that one to dive on in here.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inevitably_johnlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitably_johnlocked/gifts).



> This work is completely fiction and while it does borrow from real life, this story actually has very little to do with any of the real people mentioned. May they live their private lives well in peace. :)
> 
> +++++
> 
> I'd like to gift this work to inevitably_johnlocked for her fantastic work in the Sherlock fandom with meta, vlogging, and fabulous general squee! Recently we spoke about the people harassing her on her own blog for shipping Freebatch. It's a big, wide world out there and people should have fun, ship what they like, and stay in their own lanes. Live and let live. That's what Mrs. Hudson always says. ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben finally gets a call from Martin after weeks of no-show.

***

 

“Ben, I’m so sorry I haven’t called.”

“Three weeks. I haven’t heard a word from you for three weeks!” Benedict couldn’t help his voice rising now that he finally had Martin on the phone.

“I know, it’s been mad busy. I’m so sorry. I didn’t really think about how much time had passed until Loo called.”

“Oh, so you took her call?”

“Christ, no. It was the middle of the night here when she rang. She left a voice message. She said everyone missed me at the Sherlocked thing, but that YOU had obviously missed me most of all.” Martin sounded tired. “Something about you whinging for ten minutes about me not Facetiming you?”

“Look, about that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to waffle on like that at the convention.” Ben could feel his face heating.

 It had been all over the news blogs the next day, Benedict Cumberbatch pining at Sherlocked con for costar, Martin Freeman, to call him. He hadn’t meant to be so indiscreet in public like that. It had just spilled out of him.

Ben could hear Martin sucking in a lungful of air halfway around the globe through the mobile pressed to his ear. “No, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Really. I can’t believe I let the time get away from me like that.”

“No, I know how busy you are, I do. Amanda said she had a good visit with the kids for your birthday,” Ben ventured, trying to keep his voice light. Martin’s wife had hugged him backstage at the convention, asked after his son, Chris, and told him about her visit with her kids, Grace and Joe, to see Martin in Adelaide.

“Yeah, it was just for a couple of days, but it was good to see them. Thank you for the birthday present, I really liked the shirt.”

“So, it got there alright?” Benedict rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I’ve already worn it twice.”

“Good, good. So, how’s the filming going?”

“Hard. God, it can be so bloody desolate out here.  Sometimes on location, you think you’re the last people left on Earth, but, yeah, we’re doing some great work. I’m hoping this is going to be a good one.”

“Zombie movie.” Ben grinned. He’d been a bit surprised when Martin told him his next project was a remake of a short Zombie film until he’d seen it on Youtube. It was a very compelling story.

“Oi, fuck you. It’s not just Zombies. It’s got some real drama to it, a father-daughter thing, I wouldn’t have taken the gig otherwise.”

“I know, I know,” Benedict headed him off. “It sounds amazing.”

“Well, when I’m knee-deep in mud, and the fucking, massive mosquitoes are having me for tea, I do wonder sometimes what I’m doing out here. Christ, the bugs!  The Aussies are so laid back _, aw, them’s just muzzies_ , but I swear I saw one big enough to carry off a small dog yesterday.”

“Oh, poor thing. You’ll be brilliant in this movie though, I know it. It will all be worth it.”

“Thanks.” Martin blew out a breath. “Hey, I miss you, Sugarnut.”

“Miss you too.” Ben hesitated for just a moment. “So, where are you?”

“I’m back at the hotel, we’ve wrapped for the day. What time is it there, I keep bodging it up . . .”

“It’s quarter to noon.” Ben glanced at the clock in his study as he closed the window on his laptop.  The script for his new project could definitely wait.

“So, what’s your schedule like coming up?”

“Just at home for the moment, working on some lines, but on October 12th I’m off to Hong Kong– all the Doctor Strange PR mess kicks off. God, that’ll be a bit of a zoo. Then I’m back to start pre-production for the Thomas Edison thing.”

“Hmm, I should be done here by the 14th.”

“You’re free then?” Ben kept his tone light. “For a few days?”

“Free and clear for at least a week. What do you think about meeting in Hong Kong?”

“God, I think that would be fantastic.” Benedict felt the words bubbling up out of him. “I can have Karon forward you all my travel information.”

“Yeah, good, cc it to Jenny too.” Martin named his assistant.

“So I might see you by the 15th? Any plans on what you’d like to do?”

“I think I’ll be shagging a certain crumpet’s brains out.”

“Do I know the lucky recipient?” Ben smiled.

“Oi. No cheek out of you Cumberbatch,” Martin’s voice dipped into pure gravel. “I’ll smack the headboard against the wall I’ll be fucking you so hard.”

Benedict couldn’t stop the quick intake of breath at that. “So you’re alone?”

“I am.” Martin chuckled. “I just got out of the shower in fact. Lying here on the bed wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.”

“Mmmm.” Benedict let the sound rumble from deep in his throat. “And you got the notion to call me, did you?”

“I did.” Martin sounded so cheeky. “I’m feeling a bit lonely in fact.”

“Oh well, we can’t have that.”  Ben stood and crossed the room to close the door all the way, making sure it was locked. He was home alone, but he felt better with the door secured.

“So do you have a minute . . .” Martin trailed off suggestively.

“Yeah, Sophie took Kit out to a friend’s house this morning so I could work.”

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt if you’re working.”

“Oh, interrupt away. I needed a break anyway.” Ben flopped into an arm chair sat by the window.

“So, what are you wearing?” Martin purred.

Ben glanced down at himself. He could lie, but Martin would know. “Track suit bottoms, Pink Floyd tee, cardigan.”

Ben could hear the chuckle from around the world. “Always the snappy dresser, aren’t you?”

“Well, I could take them _off._ ”

“Yes, you could, couldn’t you? Don’t though, not yet. Let’s start with getting comfortable first, are you sitting down?”

“I am.” Benedict drawled.

“Put your hand over your cock. Over the clothes, don’t go inside.”

Benedict transferred the phone to his left hand so he could cup himself through the fabric of his bottoms. His cock was already beginning to stir.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I am. How about you?”

“Yes, but I want to focus on you right now,” Martin all but growled. “Move your hand. I want you to touch everything but your cock. Run your hand up your inner thigh, slowly, just graze your balls, and back down. Now the other. Now up to your belly, just the fingertips, over your chest, up to your neck, under your jaw, lightly, stroking, just stroking. Now back down. . .”

Martin drew the words out as Benedict followed his commands, slumping down in his chair to trail his hand lightly over what he could reach. With Martin’s voice in his ear, he shivered, feeling a zing of pleasure from just this simple act. He moaned as his head fell to rest on the back  of the chair.

“Not the cock, don’t touch,” Martin warned.

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t,” Ben hurried to assure him moving his hand around where he so desperately wanted pressure.

“You can go under the shirt now. Reach up, stroke your belly.”

It was an indulgence after all the teasing touches over his clothes, and Benedict enjoyed the sensation of trailing fingers over his bare skin.

“Run a finger over your right nipple. It’s me, it’s me who’s touching you. Can you feel it?”

“Yes.” Ben could. Flicking over the sensitive nub with the side of his thumb, it was easy to close his eyes and picture Martin in the room with him, leaning over, the tip of his tongue resting on his bottom lip, reaching out to tease him with these caresses.

“The other one, rub the other one too . . . gently, gently.”

Benedict did as he asked, rolling the other upright nipple carefully, feeling the swell of desire building over him.

“Is that good, baby?” Martin crooned.

“Uh huh.” Ben breathed.

 “Touch your mouth now. Lightly, run your fingers around the edge, all around those ridiculously lovely lips. Touch your neck now. Christ if I were there, I’d be licking and biting that neck. Are you stroking down your throat?”

“Yes, Martin,” Ben sighed, stroking lightly down to his collarbones imagining that it was Martin’s tongue painting stripes along his skin.

“Lick your fingers. Oh, those clever fingers. They feel so nice when you put them inside me. I’d like that next time we’re together, you fucking me with those fingers, pushing into me while I fall apart. Oh, yes.” 

Benedict let his mind switch off, floating on Martin’s words as he ran his tongue over his fingers. His hands were unusually sensitive, and he often liked having attention paid to them, something Martin knew full well. Each swipe of his tongue seemed to go directly to his cock.

“Now suck the first two, pull them into your mouth, as deep as you can go. Suck them like you’d suck on me.”

“Not as big.” Benedict mumbled as he hastened to comply, sliding his first two digits into his mouth, enjoying both the sensation and doing as Martin asked. He made sure to make his sucking noises as obscenely loud as he could.

“Ooooh, yes.” He could hear Martin sight across the line. “I’ll put my big cock down your throat next time I get you in my bed. You’d like that wouldn’t you, dirty boy?”

Ben slid his fingers out to beg. “Yes, yes, please can I touch .  . .”

“No. Not your dick. You may touch your nipples again. Pick a nipple, any one I don’t mind. Slide your wet fingers over it. Get it wet, rub over it.

Benedict couldn’t help the groan that ripped its way from his throat as he massaged over his chest, pressing down on the upright nub. It didn’t help that he could hear the soft rhythmic sounds of Martin beating off, taking his own pleasure while he teased and denied Ben the same.

“Please,” he groaned. “Please let me . . .”

“Yes, yes.” Martin sounded distracted. “Touch yourself. Put your hand around that lovely cock of yours.”

Benedict couldn’t push pass the waistband of his track bottoms fast enough.

“Are you doing it?”

“Yeesssss.” Ben felt exquisite relief as his hand closed over his erection.

“Gonna fuck you when I see you, have you in my bed, make you come so hard . . .” Martin kept up an almost soothing patter of filth as they wanked together, heavy breathing and gasped noises adding to the sounds of hands working over hard flesh.

“OH, Ben!” Martin bit out as he came.

“Uunh.” It was enough to send Benedict over the edge as well, the flood of warmth spattering over his hand and belly.

“Fuck. I miss you.” Martin sighed when they’d both caught their breath.

“Miss you too, sweetheart.” Benedict reached for the box of tissues on his desk, grabbing several to wipe over himself.

“I can’t wait for the 15th.” There was something in Martin’s tone, a melancholy that seemed beyond simple pining. The back of Ben’s neck tingled.

“Hey, are you okay?” He sat up, dropping the used tissues in the bin beside his desk.

“Yeah, yeah, course. I’m just tired. Look I’d better get to sleep or I’ll be useless for tomorrow. All this banging around the bush with a baby on my back has me knackered.”

“Sorry. You definitely need your beauty rest.” Ben pulled his clothes back to rights.

“I’ll call you when I get done tomorrow, alright?”

“Sure. Love you.”

“Love you too, Sugarnut. Good night.”

“Good night, Love.”

Something didn’t sit right with Benedict after he’d ended the call. He punched in Amanda’s mobile number, but it just switched over to voice mail. Frustrated Ben left a quick message for her to please call back when she could, and thumbed off the phone.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read the first part of this series, I want to add in the backstory that Martin and Amanda, and Ben and Sophie are all quite aware of this relationship, and a consenting polyamorous situation is going on. No cheating is implicitly happening with the Freebatch. Enjoy! ;)


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben can't wait for Martin to join him in Hong Kong, though Tilda remains excellent company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, other people are using December to write really sweet little Johnlock Christmas ficlets. For some reason I am writing Freebatch porn. Yup. Here ya go. ENJOY. ;)

***

Soon enough it was time to fly to Hong Kong and start the Doctor Strange appearances. Ben took a sleeping pill and pulled a mask over his face in the plane, grateful for the private compartment to stretch out and get some rest. Later, he blinked woozily into the humid Hong Kong air when his publicist, Karon, guided him off the plane, a firm hand to his arm.

The press junket was a swirl of chaos running from one thing to the next, smiling before cameras, fielding silly questions with journalists each trying to outdo each other. The only thing that made it bearable for Benedict was sharing the spotlight with Tilda Swinton. The woman was a marvel. She kept such a straight head on in the midst of all the noise, it gave Ben hope.

“Wow, Tildy, I love your outfits.” Benedict grinned as Tilda swanned into the hotel lobby in spike heels and yet another glorious pant suit, this one looking something like a kimono. “I wish I could wear something like that.”

“Oh, Ben, you CAN. Don’t set limits on yourself. You really can.” She patted him kindly on the shoulder as they made their way to the hired car.

Benedict could hardly keep his mind on task though. It was mere hours before Martin showed up, but he wasn’t sure exactly when. Martin had texted a few terse messages that he was coming, but hadn’t nailed down the details. Three nights. Ben had three nights in Hong Kong before flying to Shanghai, doing the whole media circus all over again.

The interviews went all day. Mercifully, one journalist arranged to have lunch brought in as she talked with them. Ben dug into the food gratefully, maneuvering the chopsticks to get a dumpling to his mouth. _Delicious_. Tilda asked him to pass the carton of fish balls. After dropping one and his chopstick in his lap, Ben humbly switched to a fork. _Cripes, they were on livestream._

“Who do you most look up to in the industry?” The woman smiled at Benedict.

He took a sip of his milky tea before setting it on the table.   _Don’t say Martin, don’t say Martin_ . . .  Ben made a whistling sound as he swung a finger to point at Tilda beside him.

“Really?” The interviewer’s eyebrows rose.

 “Often, cause she’s taller than me.”

“I’m not very often wearing heels,” Tilda added dryly.

Benedict reached over to grab another bit of the egg puff bread dipping it into sauce. “No, I look up to her and actually Martin Freeman who once made that funny sound in Sherlock. He . . . yup . . .” Ben stuffed the bite into his mouth to stop talking. _Damn._ He couldn’t help it. He had Martin on the brain.  He finished the mouthful to make amends. “I look up to . . . I’ve been really, really fortunate to work  . . . with a number of great people . . .” Thankfully he managed to rattle off the names of several great costars. He wasn’t just talking about Martin today. _God._

It was late when they were released for the day, finally able to go back to their rooms and collapse. Benedict fell back over the plush hotel bed with a sigh, and thumbed on his phone. His alerts told him Martin had left a voice mail.  At last. Ben almost dropped the phone getting it open in his haste.

“Hey, Ben, it’s me, sorry, we had some final pick-ups to finish today. I’ll be in tomorrow at 5 pm at the airport so however long it takes to get to the hotel, I’ll be there. Hope things aren’t too hellish! I can’t wait to see you. Miss you. Okay . . . bye.”

Benedict punched the return call button, but went right to Martin’s voicemail. “Hey there, you. Sorry I didn’t catch your call. I have to turn off the ringer in the interviews. Christ, I miss you too. Alright Silly Man, I’m off to bed. Call me when you get in. Love you. Bye.” Ben let the disappointment roll over him for just a moment before getting up for the loo. Tomorrow. Martin would be arriving for certain tomorrow.

The next day was another flurry of appearances. At least his assistant had a large cup of tea waiting for him first thing.

“Oh, Karon, thanks.” Ben wrapped his hands around the hot paper cup gratefully.

“You’re welcome, Ben. So, he’s in today?”

“Yes, he is.” He couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the sides of his lips.

“There’s a dinner tonight, but I think I can get you out of it, say you’re under the weather.”

“God, yes, please.”

“No worries. Just don’t stay up too late. You’ve got a lot on tomorrow too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Benedict winked at her. She was part assistant, and part mum some times. He knew he owed the world to Karon and her kindly organizational skills.

The afternoon dragged on eternally. Ben wished he really did have the powers of Doctor Strange to bend time. He and Tilda demonstrated how they moved their hands in the movie, answered the same questions over and over. Occasionally something new popped up.

“Describe the taste of water.” Tilda read the question.

Ben raised an eyebrow, waiting for her reply to this one.

“Moist, wet, very hydrating,” Tilda clipped in her lovely cut-glass diction. Ben had to press his lips together, trying not to burst out laughing.

In-between meetings, Benedict slipped his phone out of his pocket. He’d had a string of texts.

_I’m here!!!!! :p_

_Customs bloody nuisance_

_Airport smells of fish_

_Caught a cab_

_At hotel, looks nice!!_

_Karon just met me in the lobby, going up_

“You must be getting more interesting mail than mine.” Tilda looked up from checking her own messages.

“Oh, nothing, just  . . . a joke from a friend.”

“Must be funny. You’re grinning ear to ear. What is it, Cumbie? Tell!” Tilda leaned over, a mischievous smile playing over her elfin face.

“Oh, it wouldn’t mean anything out of context,” Ben waffled, shutting the screen to dark.

“Hmm.” Tilda went back to her phone, disgruntled.

The last appearance stretched on like an approach to a black hole, never-ending, never-ending, but finally they were done, and off to their car to return to the hotel.

“Oh, Good Lord, one more dinner, and we’re done for the night.” Tilda stretched out over the soft leather interior.

“Sorry luv, I’ll be missing out.”

“Oh you can’t.” She sat back up, rounding on Benedict.

“I’m feeling . . . that is . . .  I’m not . . .”

Tilda’s pale eyes narrowed in on him like a laser beam, and Ben lost the nerve to lie.

“The truth is, I’ve had a friend pop in, and I’m off to see him.”

“Oh you lucky bastard. I need a friend to pop in and save _me_. I’ll settle for an acquaintance. Even an enemy would be alright if it got me away for the evening.” She rolled her eyes. “Who is it?”

“Sorry, Swintonia.” Ben smiled apologetically. “Can’t say. He likes his privacy.”

“Oh God, you’re not having a hot and heavy affair with Martin Freeman, are you?”

Ben went completely pale.

“Oh no, Ben. I was only kidding.” Tilda’s hand flew to cover her mouth.

“Well, it’s not an affair, per se, our partners know, we’ve an open relationship . . .” Ben felt his face heating up as he stumbled through an explanation.

“It’s fine, love, no, you don’t need to explain.” Tilda reached over to pat his knee. “I didn’t mean to pry, I’m a goose.”

“It’s alright, it’s fine, we’re just wanting to keep it quiet. You understand . . .”

“Of course I do, love. It’s impossible to keep anything private in the bloody fishbowl. Do you know I called the bobby on someone going through my rubbish bins last month?”

Benedict pulled a face. “Oh, that’s awful.”

Talk turned to the perils of fame until the car pulled up at the door to the hotel. Ben tried not to jump out of his skin as they were escorted to a private lift to the upper level suites where they had rooms.

“See you later, you jammy sod,” Tilda said wryly.  “I’ll cover for you at dinner.”

“Thanks, Tildy, really, I owe you.”

Tilda waved her fingers over her shoulder as she headed down the corridor.

Ben fumbled with the key card at his suite, trying to hold the sodding thing the right way to open the lock. Finally a green light flashed, the big handle turned, and the door swung open.

Ben felt a sudden wave of shyness catch him as he stepped onto the plush carpet. “Hello?” he called tentatively. No one answered.

He let the door fall closed behind him, stepping further inside. When he saw Martin’s bag dumped unceremoniously on the floor in the living room, he quickened his steps. “Martin?”

The sound of running water led him past the rumpled king-sized bed to the bathroom. He opened the door to a cloud of steam and Martin humming something with his lovely voice in the shower.

“Ben, is that you?” Martin turned, the patterned shower glass giving a distorted smear of movement.

“Yup.” Ben shucked off this clothes as fast as he could, dropping his jacket, and toeing out of his shoes to hop out of his trousers and pants.

“Well, God, come here.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Ben flew through the buttons on his shirt, tossing the last article of clothing away. He slid back the glass door to step into a cloud of orange and ginger, and Martin, oh, Martin right there, enveloping him in a warm and slippery embrace.

Their mouths found each other, as Martin’s strong hands dropped to cup his backside.

“Oooh, I missed this bum,” Martin growled tugging him closer.

“I missed you,” Ben breathed.

“Yes,” Martin agreed, nuzzling against him, reaching up for another kiss.

When they broke for air, Martin moved so that Benedict was better under the spray.

“How are things? You look done in.” 

“Fine, busy, better now that you’re here.” Ben let the warm water cascade over his neck and shoulders.

“Mmmm, pass me the soap.”

Ben grabbed the small bar off the nearby ledge, and handed it to Martin. He rubbed it between his hands to make a lather before running soapy hands down Ben’s front, making a quick swipe over his chest and down his belly.

“Lift.”  Martin nodded at the vicinity of his chest.

“Yes, daddy.” Ben grinned as he raised his arms and let Martin soap up his pits. Sometimes the parent in Martin came so strongly to the forefront.

“Oi, you stink,” Martin said, the side of his mouth lifting as he watched Ben rotating under the water, sluicing the suds off.

“Well, I’m much dirtier somewhere else.” Ben let his voice drop at least an octave as he peeked coyly over his shoulder.

“Oh, is that so?” Martin reached down to trail soapy fingers between Ben’s arse cheeks, letting them slide slowly back and forth.

‘Oh yes.” Ben turned to face him, his cock thickening, rising slightly out its nest of dark hair.

“You’re right. Very dirty,” Martin agreed, wrapping a warm hand over his shaft giving it a light tug, bringing him to full hardness in a heartbeat.

 “Aaaah,” Benedict sighed. “Surely you’re a bit dirty too.” He reached out to gather up Martin’s sizeable cock already full and bumping against his stomach, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

“Wait.” Martin fumbled at the nearby shelf of small bottles plucking one out, peering at the small writing. “Oh, yes, this should do nicely.” He cracked it open, and poured a dollop of bath oil into his hand, the smell of coconut adding to the other scents.

“Me, too.” Ben held out a hand and Martin obligingly filled his cupped palm.

They reached for each other, coating their pricks with the fragrant oil, tugging, teasing.

“Have you been a bad boy? Have you been touching yourself while I wasn’t here?” Martin growled.

“Oh, God.”  Ben lost his rhythm on Martin’s shaft, his grip falling away as Martin crowded him closer to the wall, his strokes getting tighter, quicker. “Were you thinking of me when you rubbed your cock?”

“Aaaaah.” Ben’s head fell back against the tiles as Martin pressed in, one hand working over his length while the other fondled his balls.

“I’ll bet you were. Did you think about me pounding you through the mattress when you put a finger inside yourself?” One of Martin’s fingers slipped downward, suggestively toward his entrance, just teasing over it.

“Martin, GOD,” Ben bellowed as he came, pumping his release over his wet belly, and Martin’s lovely hand.

“There you go, there you go,” Martin crooned, working him through each tremor.

It was easy to wash up, simply moving under the water to rinse everything clean. Once Ben had caught his breath, he turned to stroke a finger along Martin’s stiff cock still standing to attention between them.

“Oh, now, what about Mr. Big Cock?”

“What about him?” Martin flipped the sauciest little smile imaginable.

“I missed him,” Ben purred, letting his hand encase him more fully, pulling gently at the foreskin. He reached over to the find the little bottle of oil, opening it to pour a squeeze directly over Martin’s cock, drizzling it like icing on a cinnamon roll. “Missed him almost as much as I missed you.” Ben wrapped his elegant fingers over him, smearing the oil around.

“Mmmm.” Martin’s eyes fell shut, as he leaned back against the tiled wall.

“Did he miss me?” Ben pressed in, whispering directly against Martin’s ear.

“Fuck, yes.” Martin groaned as Benedict picked up the pace.

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” Ben let his voice roll out as low as it would go, down to subsonic dragon level. He slid his hand up and down Martin’s dick.

“God, no,” Martin huffed out a laugh, banging his head lightly on the tiled wall behind him.

“No, indeed. Well, thief! I smell you, I hear your breath, I feel your aaaaiiiir.” Ben exhaled the line against the side of Martin’s neck as his hand pumped at him.  Martin had begun a sort of keening sound under his breath, his eyes screwed shut.

“Where are you? Come now, don't be shy... step into the light.” Benedict licked the side of Martin’s face, picking up the water drops clinging to his skin. Martin tensed under him, choking out a fascinating noise, as warmth bloomed over Ben’s busy fingers.

Martin’s knees gave out as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Ben folded to follow him.

“I’m too old for this, Cumberbatch. There’s a bed, a perfectly good bed out there.”

“Yes, let’s get into it.” Ben flashed a cheeky smile.

***


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin brightens a dull PR trip, and Tilda Swinton continues to be fantastic.

***

After a perfunctory swipe with towels, the two men wrapped in the fluffy white dressing gowns hanging by the shower, and moved to the bedroom.

“Christ, I hate flying.” Martin unscrewed a bottle of water left on the nightstand, and took a slug. “Dries me out completely.”  He lifted his phone to briefly check his messages.

“Oh, yeah, I know.” Ben turned to rifle through his suitcase on a stand, pulling out some pants that he stepped into. “Though the jet lag is worse. I’m still not completely right. I keep waking up in the middle of the night.” He flopped onto the bed, allowing himself a good stretch over the duvet.

Across the room, Martin licked his lips, tracking his movements. “God, I missed this.” He tossed his phone to the dresser.

“Hmmm?”

“Watching you.” Martin prowled to the bed, crawling up Ben to hover over him on hands and knees. “Gorgeous drink of water.” He smiled something very predatory as he reached out to push aside Ben’s hastily-tied dressing gown. His smile deepened as pale freckled flesh was uncovered until he reached grey briefs. “Oh, did you have to get dressed?”

“You wanted me naked the whole time you’re here?”

“Preferably.” Martin leered. “Though I do enjoy unwrapping you as well.” He let a finger slide just under the waist band of his pants, caressing over Ben’s lean stomach.

Benedict snaked his hands up the back of Martin’s thighs under his robe, letting them come to rest cupping his backside. “Mmm, there is some merit in that.”  He squeezed.

Martin groaned, and dropped his head to find Ben’s mouth. They rolled to their sides, kissing enthusiastically all the way over.

“Alright, yes, naked,” Ben said when they came up for air. “Please.”

Martin huffed a laugh as they separated, quickly divesting themselves of dressing gowns. As Benedict slipped off his briefs, tossing them to the floor, Martin turned back the covers. They slid in, seeking each other in the middle.

“Ohhh, yessss.” Martin hissed as they wrapped themselves fully together, skin on skin, legs, intertwining. 

Ben hummed as they resumed their kissing, deep, and slow. Soft cocks stirred slightly as they took their time to relearn the feel of each other, hands stroking, tongues brushing languidly. They broke off eventually to simply hold each other close, basking in the warmth. Ben pulled back to catch Martin’s eyes.

“So, do you want to go out for dinner, or order in?” Ben propped up on one elbow.

“Oh, God, I’ve had enough of people for one day. I hope you don’t mind I already ordered in. I haven’t eaten properly all day.” Martin sighed.

“Oh no, that’s fine. More than fine. We don’t need to get dressed.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Martin said running a hand down his side.

“Listen, I had some news I wanted  . . .”

“Ben, there’s something I needed to tell . . .”

They broke off with a laugh as they spoke over each other.

“Go ahead.” Martin nudged Benedict’s hip with his own.

He took a deep breath. “Sophie’s pregnant. We’re expecting number two.”

“Oh my God. Ben, that’s fantastic. Wow. When is she due?”

“Middle of March. It’s great, really great, but I’m a bit nervous to be honest. Two!”

“You’ll do fine. Once you’ve already got one turning your life topsy turvy, what’s another?”

Ben laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but we were waiting to make sure things were alright. Plus of course _someone_ didn’t return my calls for three weeks.” Benedict tapped a finger over Martin’s chest.

“God, Ben, yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Martin looked a bit sheepish. “Come here, you.” He reached up and pulled Ben back into his arms, squeezing him close.

“You’ll be great. You’ve already had Kit to practice on. The second one is easier.”

“I hope so. We’d just gotten used to sleeping through the night.”

 “Babies.” Martin snorted. “I’m glad to be done with the lot. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean . . .”

“No, it’s alright.” Ben moved back to better regard him. “They’re a lot of work, I know. But I cut you off earlier. What did you want to tell me?”

A shadow passed over Martin’s eyes. “It’s not nearly as exciting as your news. I . . .”

They startled as a crisp knock sounded at the door.

“Damn, the food.” Martin bounded out of the bed, finding his dressing gown on the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Martin tied his robe as he headed out of the bedroom, pulling the door half closed behind him. Ben climbed out of the blankets and found his own dressing gown, shrugging it on as he waited for the staff person to clear out. When the outer door closed, he emerged to find Martin setting plates to the table.

“Wow, that smells fantastic. What did you order?”

“A bit of everything it seems.” Martin smiled.

“Brilliant. I’m starving.”

Martin opened covered dishes, setting a variety of foods in the Asian category across the table. 

“So you went for Pacific, I see.”

“When in Rome . . .  plus I figured they’d be less likely to fuck up something familiar.”

“Ooh, dim sum.” Ben made a beeline for the bowl of dumplings.

“Yeah, I got vegetarian, hope you don’t mind.”

“God, no.”

They filled their plates, ignoring the chopsticks to chose the forks provided.

“I just can’t get the hang of them,” Ben said scooping up some rice.

“Chopsticks are good when you’re on a diet,” Martin said, and leaned over to snag a cube of bean curd with his fingers.

“So, seriously, what did you want to tell me? You’ve got me curious now.” Ben kicked Martins ankle gently under the table.

Martin shrugged, making a point of finishing his mouthful, and reaching for his cup of green tea before answering. “Nothing really. Just scheduling stuff. We’ll need to coordinate calendars if we’ve any time free in common. I’m off to New York in December.”

“Oh right. Christ. I almost forgot. I’m hosting Saturday Night Live in November. I’m worried about that one. Big shoes to fill. YOU, sir, were brilliant in that.” Ben pointed to Martin with his cup.

“Thanks. They’re a good group. Professional, but warm, really welcoming. You’ll do fine.”

They chatted amiably about work for awhile, scraping their plates clean before pushing back, stomachs full.

“I’m exhausted.” Benedict sighed. “Shall we turn in? Maybe watch something mindless on the telly?”

“That sounds about my speed right now,” Martin admitted wryly.

They pulled on sleep gear, old tee shirts and briefs and settled into the enormous bed together. After propping the large selection of pillows behind them, Ben turned on the big flat screen tv. They caught the last half of a movie they’d both seen and liked, then Ben flipped through the channels finally settling on an Asian game show with contestants running through mad-looking obstacle courses. It was good for a laugh at the pratfalls as they snugged up side by side under the duvet. 

When Ben yawned wide enough to crack his jaw, Martin reached for the remote and clicked if off. “Sleep?”

“Yeah, I’m knackered. Sorry.” Benedict rubbed at his sore eyes.

“Don’t be, I am too.”

After turns using the loo, they settled down to sleep, shutting off the lights.

Ben slid closer to Martin, slipping an arm over his middle. “I’m glad you came.”

“God, me too.” He rolled onto his side and pulled Ben into a sweet kiss.

Interest was definitely stirring as they pressed closer together. Martin swept a hand down to grab Ben’s arse, kneading a nice handful.  “Not too tired?” he whispered.

“No, maybe not, if you’re not too tired, old man.”  Ben slipped a knee between Martins’ thighs and rocked upward gently.

“Oooh, you Bad Boy. I might need to teach you a lesson for cheek.”

“Yes, please.” Benedict grinned as Martin nudged him backward to stretch more fully against him.

“Mmm, you are delicious.” Martin nuzzled under Ben’s jaw, smearing kisses against his throat as his hands slipped downward.

Ben, dizzy, groaned as Martin pulled him into a place where words scattered, and boundaries softened leaving touch, and taste and scent to guide him. He reached up, gripping Martin with both hands, pulling him even closer.

***

Something woke Ben in the dark. He squinted at the clock. 3:00 am. He groaned and rolled over, determined to go back to sleep when his hand hit cool sheets next to him. Martin was gone. A dim light filtered from the cracked bathroom door, and Ben crept closer to investigate. The relief at finding Martin within, bent over, hands braced on either side of the sink, was quickly lost at seeing his expression. The small night light threw shadows over his face making his eyes look hollow, and his cheeks deeply etched, almost skull-like in the gloom.

“Martin?”

His head whipped around. “Ben! I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, my inner clock is all screwed up, but you. Are you alright? You looked . . . terrible.”

“No, no . . . I’m fine.” Martin wiped a hand over his face, seeming to reset his awful expression to something more familiar, soft and fond. “Just tired. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Ben would have said more, pursued it, but Martin pulled him down into hot, sultry kisses, and the questions flew from his mind.

When Benedict woke again, it was to the bleat of the alarm clock. He groaned, reaching out to slap it off.

“Mmmfff.” Martin burrowed deeper into the covers beside him.

Ben made himself get up and get ready, stepping groggily into the shower. His muscles were a bit sore and he let the warm water run to loosen them. He was glad for his shorter hair as he scrubbed a towel through it to dry, so much easier than those wretched curls. Martin was still passed out, a lump under the duvet when he returned to the bedroom to root out some clothes.

“Hey, slugabed.” Ben swatted at what he assumed was Martin’s rear.

“Yeah?” The tip of Martin’s nose appeared.

“Hey, I have to leave soon.”

“Oh, right.” Martin pushed upright looking drowsy and rumpled, hair sticking simply everywhere.

“I need to go. I wanted to say good-bye.”

“Mmm, come here.” Martin crooked a finger, and Benedict crawled onto the bed to reach him. He pulled Ben into a sleepy, stubbly kiss. Even Martin’s morning breath didn’t put him off. He just tasted more of himself. When it threatened to slide into something more, Ben pulled back.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t want to go, but I have to. Marvel’s paying for this lovely room and I have to go earn my keep.”

“Yeah, right. When will you be done?”

“I’ll be back for dinner, for certain, but maybe a bit sooner. We’ll see. What will you do all day?”

“Enjoy not working.” A smile looped across his face. “No seriously, I might put on my disguise and knock around a bit, do some shopping.” Martin had a stick-on beard, sunglasses and a ball cap he wore when he wanted to blend in. So far, he hadn’t been recognized in them.

“Okay. I’ll text if I get out early. God I wish we had more than two nights together.”

“Me too.” Martin smiled wistfully. “At least we have this.”

Ben leaned in for a last peck before making himself grab his things and leave.

“Bye.” He raised a hand at the doorway.

“Knock ‘em dead, love.”

Ben greeted Tilda in the lobby as they met the hired car arriving to carry them off to another full day.

“Soooo?” Tilda raised her eyebrows as the car pulled away from the kerb into traffic. “How did your night go?”

Ben grinned at her wordlessly.

“I’m glad someone had a good time.” Tilda opened her purse to dig through the contents. “I’ll have you know I had Chinese businessmen grabbing at my arse at dinner last night.”

“Oh, Tilda, no.” Ben’s smile dropped.

“It’s alright I had on boots. I just stepped on his foot.” She fished out a mint that she unwrapped to pop into her mouth. “You’d better believe that was the end of that.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.”

“The rest of the evening was fairly routine.”

“I’ll be there to protect your honour today. There’s no dinner on tonight though, right?”

“No thankfully it’s an early one. We fly to Shanghai tomorrow morning.” The mint clicked against Tilda’s teeth.

“God, don’t remind me.” Ben leaned back on the plush seat and closed his eyes.

“Poor baby.” Tilda reached out to pat his knee. “At least you’ve got someone visiting to make the evenings bearable. I had to settle for watching some awful game show with obstacle courses and cream pies when I got in. Horrid business.”

“Oh, we watched that too. Wasn’t if awful when you thought that woman had it, and she fell into the jello pool?”

Tilda looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “You had someone in your bed and you watched a _game show_?”

“Well, that isn’t all we did.” Ben felt a blush creeping up his neck.

“Well, good for that. I’ve got to live vicariously where I can.” Tilda's mouth tipped up wryly.

 

***

Ben dragged through the interviews, pulling out all his professional chops to smile and nod, and answer each idiotic question patiently. They deserved his full attention, and he struggled to give it. Finally at a down time when they had a few minutes with sandwiches in a green room, Ben pulled out his phone. Martin had sent him several photos snapped in some shop. His favourites had to be the box of pink sweets shaped like little arses, and a water bottle that looked like a green penis. Ben snickered. This time when Tilda asked him what he was going on about, he showed her the screen.

“Charming.” Tilda raised an eyebrow.

When his assistant sat down with him later to go over his upcoming schedule, Benedict had trouble keeping up, his mind kept wandering back to thoughts of Martin from the night before. That thing he did with his fingers was . . .

“Ben, are you listening?” Karon broke into his reverie.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, just a bit tired today.” Ben rubbed at his forehead.

“It’s a busy schedule, I know.” Her face softened. “So, things went well last night?”

“Brilliant.” Ben couldn’t stop his silly grin.

“Good,” Karon said, looking as if she meant it. “Have fun tonight, but remember, we leave for the airport at seven tomorrow. I’ll send you a call at six.”

“Yes, alright.” Ben nodded.

When the day finally wrapped, Ben pulled his phone out and texted Martin that he was on the way back to the hotel. Martin must have been waiting to hear from him. He replied almost instantly.

_Good! Found a sushi place for dinner. Interested?_

_Yes! How about 7:30 pm?_ Ben’s fingers flew over the keypad.

_I’ll call for res_

Ben hesitated for a moment. He thought about asking Tilda if she wanted to join them, but then realized he didn’t want to share his last night with Martin.

 _Can’t wait._ He pushed send and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

They parted ways at the hotel lobby, Tilda had a massage booked, and Ben was of course bursting to see Martin. He hurried upstairs, opening the door to find Martin, fully dressed, reading a book on the sofa.

“Hey.” Martin looked up with a smile. “How did things go?”

“Alright. It was a lot though.” Ben flopped onto the couch next to him. “We did a Korean television bit in the afternoon. The bloke kept wanting me to give spoilers for Doctor Strange. Christ, I get so tired of knowing what you’re meant to say and what not.” Ben scrubbed at his eyes.

“I know. Sherlock’s the worst though, really. Thank God all that will be done in January.” Martin set his book on a side table. “Cat out of the damn bag finally.”

“That is going to be fantastic when it airs.” Benedict chuckled wearily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some people are going to be _shocked_. I can’t wait to see the reaction.”

It had frustrated Sherlock fans to no end. Though Victorian Holmes and Watson had exchanged a kiss on the special, people were angry when it turned out to be nothing more than a fever dream of Sherlock's as he overdosed. The cast and crew had been tap dancing around the question of whether Sherlock and John were going to kiss “for real” in series four for months now.

“Come here. I’ll do your shoulders.” Martin motioned Ben over, spreading his legs to make room for him. Benedict sank gratefully to the carpet with his back to the sofa, bending his head as Martin dug his thumbs in at the base of his neck.

“Ooh God, YES. Aaaaaah.” Benedict let the most shameful of moans fall from his mouth as Martin smoothed his hands across his shoulders over and over, pressing in at the sore spots.

“Drama queen,” Martin said fondly. He gave Ben’s upper arms a final squeeze, and bent down to kiss his cheek.

“You love it.” Benedict chuckled deeply.

“I do. I love you.” He could hear the smile in Martin’s voice.

“I love you too.” Ben twisted around. “Thanks, that’s ever so much better.”

“Of course.” Martin smiled as Ben rose to his feet, climbing onto Martin’s lap, his knees pressed to either side of his thighs.  

“What do you think people will do when Sherlock does this to John?” Ben tipped Martin’s chin up to lean in and place a tender kiss to his mouth.

“Mmmm.” Martin sighed. “I think they’ll like what John does even better. He flipped Benedict sideways onto the sofa, and clambored over him pressing the taller man into the cushions as he proceeded to snog the life out of him.

Ben was near panting when Martin finally let him up for air. “Yes, I liked that part.” He grinned, reaching up to sift his fingers through Martin’s soft, greying blond hair.

“Both kisses were good.” Martin had gone heavy lidded and his burgeoning erection was already burning a line against Ben’s hip. “But I like kissing you better.” He leaned back in to demonstrate, kissing Benedict again, drugging things that made him forget the long, dull day they’d spent apart.

“What time is it?” Ben asked when they parted.

Martin twisted his arm around to squint at his watch. “Half past six.”

“Not quite enough time to do what I want to you.” Ben sighed.

“No, I agree. Let’s get ready for dinner, and I’ll have my way with you after we eat.”

“A fantastic idea.” Ben smiled. “I want to change my clothes.”

He let Martin help him up from the sofa, and the two men padded toward the bedroom together.

 

 ***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that in this alternate reality, Benedict and Martin shared a kiss in the special, "The Abominable Bride." It was a lovely Three Garridebs Moment, and the fans in that universe screamed their heads off. It continues to feature heavily in vids and gif sets posted on alternate Tumblr. I'm sure you would have enjoyed it too had you been there! ;)


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin finally comes clean with his news.

 ***

 

Benedict’s phone trilled a sultry French pop ringtone. He grinned as he pulled it from his pocket. _Sophie._

“Martin, give me a moment. It’s Sophie calling.”

“Yeah, of course.”

They’d emailed over the last few days, texted, but this was the first time she’d called. Ben routed back to the lounge as Martin pulled the door closed to the bedroom, giving him some privacy.

Benedict swiped across the screen to answer. “Bubby, how are you? How’s Kit, the baby, everything?”

“Hullo, sweetie, I’m good. We’re all good.” Ben had forgotten how much he missed the sound of her voice.

“Is Kit being alright? Going to bed alright?”

“He’s been in a bit of a mood honestly. Threw his smushed banana across the room last night, but Mara calmed him down and we got him in bed on time.” Their nanny had come highly recommended, and Ben didn’t think they would survive without her. “I think he misses his daddy.”

“Oh, I miss him too. I miss you. How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, just feel like the gravity’s been turned up, but otherwise, good.

“Did you make the lunch with your friends?”

“I did, it was great to see Polly again.”

“So are she and Eloise still . . .

“Oh no, they broke up ages ago. So, how’s the PR tour going?”

“Not too bad.” Ben ran his hand back through his hair. He could hardly complain when Sophie was back home dealing with work, and the baby, and the one on the way. “Tilda’s been fantastic, just a scream. She’s really made the interview parade bearable.”

“Tilda’s a good one,” Sophie agreed. “So what about Martin, did he make it out after all?”

“Oh God, I’m sorry, love, I didn’t text you back – things got busy. He did. He came in yesterday evening. Of course we’re all off again tomorrow, but we’re going out for sushi tonight.”

“Good. I’m sure he’s making things more bearable than Tilda is.”

Ben felt a blush rise over his cheeks. He could hear the smile in Sophie’s voice though. “Yeah, yeah, Martin’s great. I just . . .  I feel like something’s off with him though, you know?”

“Really? I don’t know, Martin always seems a little grumpy.” Sophie sounded a bit distracted as if she were doing something. Ben heard the squeak of a door through the connection.

“No it’s more than that. Something’s wrong. I can’t seem to get it out of him though.”

“Well, I suppose he’ll tell you when he’s ready. Look, Kit’s up from his nap. Do you want to say hello?”

“Oh, yes, do put him on.”

Benedict spent a happy few minutes babbling with his son before Sophie came back on.

“Oh, he needs a nappy change. We’d best go.”

“Sorry, love, save a few for me when I get back.”

“Ha.” Sophie snorted. It was an old joke. “You’ll let me know when you reach Shanghai?”

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye!”

Ben kissed his good-byes and thumbed the phone off.

Martin was in the bedroom, perched on the bed frowning at something on his laptop. He looked up with a smile though when Ben came in.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to take too long.”

“No, no. Never apologize for taking time for your family.” Martin’s smile thinned a bit.

“Oh, Martin. I’m so sorry. You’ve been away from home for weeks. You must miss your kids horribly.”

“I do, I do.” Martin snapped his computer closed. “Come on, you, we need to get going if we’re to make the reservation.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Ben, don’t be sorry. You’re beautiful. Here wear this shirt, it brings out your eyes.” Martin thrust clothes into his arms, and in a few minutes, Ben had finally made himself presentable for dinner.  

With hats and tinted glasses firmly in place, they went downstairs for the taxi that Martin had called.  Hong Kong was frenetic like any big city after dark with flashing lights, and honking horns but with an exotic flair that had Ben ogling out the windows. 

“It’s so odd to see the place in person after filming in our little made-up Hong Kong for over a month.” The _Doctor Strange_ set department had recreated an entire Hong Kong street at night in almost exacting detail in a London studio. “Did you know we had extras who had relatives living in Hong Kong, and they said it was so spot on, they felt like they could open a door and go up and their cousins would be there.”

“Yeah, _Whiskey Tango Foxtrot_ was like that.” Martin nodded sagely. “We had a little bit of Afghanistan set in New Mexico of all places. One minute you’d be in Kabul, and the next you could be driving by a Walmart or a McDonalds. Quite the mindfuck. You start to forget what’s real, and what’s pretend.”

“You didn’t actually eat at McDonalds while you were in the States, did you?” Ben scrunched his nose.

“Christ, no, but you couldn’t help driving by one of the bastards anywhere you went. They’re on every corner, like Pret in London.” Martin waved a hand.

“At least Pret is better than McDonalds.”

“Anything is better than McDonalds.”

“Speaking of not-Mcdonalds, how did you find this restaurant for tonight?” Benedict nudged Martin’s side.

“I asked at the front desk. They said it wasn’t too far, and it was one of the best sushi places in the city.”

“And does it have private rooms?”

“It does. Don’t worry, I booked one.” Martin nudged back.

“I hate to be precious, but I’d hate to be spotted.”

“I know, believe me. I don’t fancy posing with a dozen fans in the middle of dinner.” Martin reached out to pat Ben’s leg, and Ben reached down to catch up his hand, threading their fingers together.

“I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough for flying out here just to keep me company for two nights.”

“Ben, I’m more than happy to see you.” Martin flashed him a melting smile.

Benedict wanted to lean down and kiss him, but the taxi driver was already glancing their way, and he didn’t want to do anything too memorable. It wouldn’t do to draw a lot of attention their way tonight.

The cab deposited them in front of a tall building, and a lift in the lobby took them to an upper floor where the restaurant lay. They pushed through a glass door with the name Zuma etched into it to reach the airy, elegant space within. The ceiling opened straight up to the floor above, bisected by open lit stairways to reach the upper bar and lounge.

“Ooh, very nice.” Ben craned his neck to look around.

“Hello,” Martin announced them to the hostess. “We have a reservation for John Christopher?”

Ben grinned to hear Martin’s middle names used. It was a good cover when you were out, and didn’t want to be immediately rumbled.

“Yes, sir, right this way.” The trim Asian woman led them to a side room with several tables though they were the only ones there, and left them with menus.

“This is lovely.” Ben took off his hat and glasses, finger combing his hair back. “Sometimes I hate having to hide away so much though.”

“Yeah, but this will be quieter anyway.” Martin picked up his menu to flip through.

When the waiter arrived, they were ready to order a number of selections, and a bottle of wine.

“So how did your shopping go today. Did you get anything good?” Benedict relaxed back with his glass of Chablis when they were left alone again.

“Found a good music store,” Martin said. “But I just poked about, wasn’t much there I didn’t have.”

“I can’t imagine that,” Benedict teased. The size of Martin’s record collection was legendary.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Oi, no cheek out of you or I won’t give you your gift, Lord Cumberbatch.”

“Oooh, what did you get me?”

“It’s a surprise.” Martin looked incredibly smug, “but I think you’ll like it. I got it at a sex shop.”

“Oh God, no.” Benedict felt his ears heat.

“I had to,” Martin insisted. “There were these octopus things in the window, and I had to go in and investigate. Then I spent so long in the place, I felt like I had to buy something.”

“God, I’m worried now.”

Martin laughed. “Don’t be. I gave the octopus things a miss.”

“What _were_ the octopus things?”

“You know, I never quite figured it out and I was afraid to ask.”

Benedict chuckled. They relaxed, talking idly of past trips, and mutual friends until the wait staff returned to set platters to the table filled with clever bits of fish and rice artfully arranged. The food was delicious, and they made short work of it, dipping the seafood by hand into the bowls of sauces provided, and licking their dripping fingers clean.

“Ooh, that is good.” Martin bit into a scallop roll, moaning at the flavor. “Want to try?”

“Oh, yes.” Ben leaned in and let Martin feed him the tidbit, his lips closing over the ends of his fingers as he accepted it. Martin’s eyes went dark watching him swallow the food down.

The sashimi was delightful, and Benedict held out a bit of tuna for Martin to try. He smiled as he ate it from Benedict’s hand, his tongue doing something near illegal over Ben's fingers.

Martin had just poured out the last of the bottle of wine when Benedict off-handedly asked about his upcoming holiday plans.

“I hate to jump the gun, but you know Sophie and I would love to have your lot over around Christmas. We’ll have to figure out what’s good, juggling with all the families. Why don’t you ask Amanda what works on her side.”

A cloud passed over Martin’s face, and he set his glass down, folding his hands at his place.

“Ben . . . I . . .” Martin cleared his throat.

“What? What is it?” Benedict frowned at Martin’s suddenly serious demeanor.

“I didn’t know how to bring this up . . .” Martin looked down at his plate reaching out to push a sliver of ginger around with this finger. “There never seemed to be a good time . . .”

“What in the world? Love, you’ve gone pale.”

“There’s no good way to say it, so I might as well just say it.” Martin took a deep breath and finally looked back up. “Amanda and I are splitting up.”

“WOT?” Ben felt as though a gong had been hit, the sound resounding across his skull. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. It’s been a long time coming.” Martin sighed. “It’s not something either of us really wanted, but it looks like things just aren’t working out.”

“But, I saw Amanda at Sherlocked Con, she didn’t say a word.”

“Things hadn’t quite come to a head at that point.”

“I don’t understand, what brought things to a head while you were away filming in Australia?”

If possible, Martin got even paler. “Ben . . .” He reached up to scrub at his forehead with the heel of one hand. “I didn’t mean . . . it just happened.” He took another breath and started again. “There was a woman in costuming, Liza  . . .”

Ben felt a shiver run up his spine. He waited for Martin to continue.

“She was pretty, right, of she was, and we had a big dinner out, all the cast and crew on location.  She and I got to talking, we really hit it off. . . we got pretty drunk . . .”  Martin trailed off.

“You slept with her.” Benedict supplied. His stomach had turned to lead.

“God, it wasn’t something I planned.” Martin’s eyes were pleading.

“No wonder you wouldn’t call me back.”  Ben sat back in his chair, absorbing the news.

“Ben, I’m so sorry.”

“No, we aren’t exactly exclusive with each other. But . . .”

“It was a dick move. I know it was.” Martin reached out for his wine glass and took a slug. “It got back to Amanda almost immediately. She was furious, said it was the last straw.”

“You’ve had other lovers before.” Ben let his voice soften. “What made Amanda call it quits this time?”

“I guess it was just cumulative. We haven’t really been on the same page for awhile.” Martin smiled sadly.  “And as it turns out, she was never quite comfortable with this . . . between us.”

“Oh, Martin. Damnit, I’m so sorry. God, the kids. What are Joe and Grace . . .” Ben stopped himself as he watched Martin’s gaze filling up.

“Fuck. I don’t know what we’re doing about the kids. I've been away for stretches before, but this . . .” Martin dipped his head to blot at his eyes with his napkin. “I asked my assistant to find me a flat near Soho. Something central. It’s all still up in the air.”

“You’ll stay with us till you’re sorted. I’ll ring Sophie.”

“God, Ben, are you sure, I don’t want to impose.”

“Never, you could never impose.”

“Alright . . . thanks.” Martin wiped at his face again, trying to compose himself.

When a smiling waiter appeared again asking if they’d care for some dessert or after dinner drinks, Benedict declined, asking firmly for just the check, please.

“We’ll get through this, we will.” Benedict leaned across the table to grip Martin’s forearm.

“Thanks, sweetheart, I appreciate this.”

Martin looked like he was about to start in on a fresh set of tears, when thankfully the check arrived. Ben insisted on paying, signing off on his credit card with an illegible flourish.

“Come on, let’s get back to the hotel.”

Martin nodded, and they replaced concealing glasses and hats to begin the trek back.

 ***

 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin and Benedict find comfort in what keeps them strong.

***

Martin flopped onto the sofa as soon as they reached the suite looking done in.

“Drink?” Benedict headed for the mini-bar.

“Please.” Martin nodded tightly.

Benedict reached in to select several small bottles, cracking open the tops to pour them into two tumblers. He added a few cubes of ice from the mini fridge and crossed the room to hand one to Martin.

“Ta.” Martin reached up to accept it.

Ben retrieved the second glass for himself, and took it to the armchair opposite. They sipped in silence for several minutes, only a single lamp on a desk providing light to the room.

“She didn’t mean anything,” Martin said at length. “The make-up girl. Even she knew it was just a one off thing. I think she was on Instagram the next day sending snaps of me and my open mouth snoring to her girlfriends.”

Benedict winced. “You have to be more careful, Martin.”

“Fuck, I know. It was stupid.” Martin squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, taking a breath. He reopened to focus on his drink, swirling the amber liquid around before he lifted it to his lips. The ice clinked musically against the glass as it shifted. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot lately, but I am.”

In an instant Ben had left his drink on a side table to join Martin on the sofa. “I know, believe me, I know. They’re around you all the time. Smiling fans, smiling crew, sign my program, can I take a picture, oh by the way, here’s my number. You’d have to be dead not to react sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to fuck them.”

“No, you don’t,” Ben agreed mildly.

“It’s just Amanda and I had had another big row. The visit didn’t go that well when she and the kids came down to Adelaide. We tried, we held it together for Joe and Grace, but the cracks were showing. I was feeling sore, a little put out when she left, and then the dinner, and getting drunk happened, and there the make-up girl was. I’m an idiot.” Martin blew out a breath in a huff.

“It’s okay.” Ben opened arms, and Martin fell willingly into them.

“God, Ben, you aren’t mad?” Martin was muffled against his shirt.

“I’m hurt. I wish you’d called, but I understand. God, of course I do.”

Benedict held him for a few long moments before kissing the top of Martin’s head. “Come on, why don’t we go have a bath? The tub in there is simply enormous.”

“Yeah, alright.” Martin’s voice sounded a bit watery.

Ben headed into the bathroom, turning on the taps to fill the huge tub. He located a bottle of bath gel and added it to the stream from the faucet, giving the rising water a fragrant head of bubbles. He had started unbuttoning his shirt as Martin appeared to use the toilet in the separate water closet room. He was down to his pants when Martin reappeared.

“Aren’t you pretty?” Martin’s gaze swept over him appreciatively.

“Hardly. I’ve been compared to an otter, don’t you know?” Ben stepped out of his pants, kicking them to the side.

“Pure rubbish, c’mere.” Martin pulled Benedict into his arms, tugging him down for a kiss. Ben reveled in the feeling of his naked skin pressed against Martin’s fully clad form. It gave him a small shiver as Martin’s hands came up to caress his backside.

“Are you cold? Best get you into the warm water.” Martin pulled back with a soft smile.

“No . . . I . . .yes, let’s get in,” Ben agreed.

He stepped into the tub carefully, sliding down into the bubbles to watch Martin get undressed.

Martin took his time, peeling off his waistcoat and undoing his shirt and trousers, making a bit of a show of it. Benedict propped his chin onto his hands on the side of the tub and let his eyes run freely over him.

“Like what you see?” Martin growled pretending to open his trousers several times before finally dropping them.

“You know I do.” Ben smiled broadly. “Come on, get in here.”

Show over, Martin stepped out of his slacks and hooked thumbs into the waistband of his boxers to push them down and off.

Ben’s eyes glowed as Martin climbed in to join him. He leaned back against the wall as Martin sat between his splayed thighs, resting against his chest.  When the water rose high enough to threaten spilling, Martin leaned forward to shut the taps off.

“This is nice,” Martin said, settling back against him, the tension already visibly seeping from his shoulders.

“Mmmmm,” Benedict rumbled in agreement.

They lay relaxing, enjoying the warmth of the tub and each other. Ben lifted a soapy hand to run a long finger up and down Martin’s arm before moving to trace shapes over his chest.

“Wait, what are you . . .” He concentrated for a moment on the pattern Ben was repeating over his skin . . . “I <3 you.”

“Aw, you berk. I love you too.” Martin chuckled, a lovely low sound.

Benedict bent down to press a kiss to Martin’s cheek. “You know I do, love.”

“Yeah.” Martin swiveled around in the water until he was facing Benedict. One hand reached up to thread into his curly auburn hair, holding him still as he found his mouth for a kiss. It started sweet, almost chaste, quickly turning heated, tasting salty and primal like the seafood they had eaten earlier.

Ben laughed at the sound of water sloshing over the side. “Oops.”

“I think we’d best pull the plug here. Take this back into the bedroom?” Martin chuckled, his eyes dark and hooded.

“Oh, yes.”

Benedict hit the knob to open the drain, and they climbed out to peel fluffy white towels from a stack to dry off.  Only just dry enough to not soak the sheets, they abandoned the towels to the floor to tumble into the bed together.

Martin laughed as he climbed on top of Ben, reaching up to pin his hands back over his head.

“Mmmm, how shall I have you?”

“Anyway you like?” Ben purred in return, tilting his hips to press his quickly filling erection against Martin.

“I think I’ll have you like this, fuck you into this mattress, just like this.” Martin rocked gently back and forth. Ben sucked air in through his teeth as his eyes closed. Just this small movement felt fantastic.

“Oh, but I forgot your present.” Martin moved off of Ben to his small whine of protest. He clambored back down to the floor to root through his suitcase. “Where the hell . . . oh here it is.”

He returned with something in a brown paper bag printed all over with a pattern of red lips parted enough for the tip of a tongue to show.

“Okay, what is this?” Ben sat back up, propped against the headboard to accept the gift.

“Open it and see.” Martin smirked.

Benedict reached in to pull out a DVD. There was something else in the bag, but he ignored it for the moment to examine the movie cover. The title read “Sherlock Bones: this time he’ll have to go deeper for clues.” The actor front and center, a Slavic-looking chap with a passing resemblance to Ben, stood holding a magnifying glass, wearing a deerstalker cap and little else. Lucky for him, a picture of his privates was omitted from mass distribution by a sandy-hair fellow with a large mustache sitting before him in nothing but a pair of red briefs.

Ben covered his mouth as he choked on laughter. “OH MY GOD.”

“Pretty funny, yeah?” Martin flopped down beside him.

“We have to watch this!” Ben chortled. “Look how RIPPED Watson is.” The blond actor did sport an impressively muscular torso.

“Oi, I’m not too bad.” Martin slapped at his belly, though it wasn’t what you’d call buff exactly.

“I love your middle,” Benedict said, dropping the movie aside to push Martin onto his back for better access. Martin sank into the pillows with a sigh, melting as Benedict kissed over his stomach, nibbling his way up to mouth over his chest. He groaned in earnest when Ben reached his nipples, licking and sucking at each one in turn. His erection fairly throbbed where it lay pressed against Ben’s belly.

“Ben, gaaawd, yes  . . .” Martin frowned, trying to concentrate. “Still in the bag . . . if you look . . . over there. . . something else.” He waved in the direction of the foot of the bed.

“What? Oh. right.” With some reluctance, Benedict left off his ministrations, reaching over to retrieve the bag where it has fallen. He rattled the paper extracting a weighty black bottle.

“Nice.” Ben glanced over the posh-looking label. “Gel-based lubricant. Oooh, it’s even got vitamin E in it. That’s important when you’re getting your brains shagged out.”

“Fuck, yes, you Bad Boy. Get over here. I’ve a promise to keep.” Martin wiggled his fingers for the lube.

“Yes, sir.” Benedict grinned, obligingly dropping the bottle into Martin’s outstretched hand. In a matter of moments, Martin had him flat on his back. Ben heard the snick of a cap opening, and then cool, slick fingers were probing between his arse cheeks, sliding over him.

“Oh, cold.” Ben shuddered.

“It’ll warm,” Martin growled nearby.

The pressure increased over his opening until a finger pushed past the muscles, slipping inside.

“Oh.” Ben’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Do you like that? Do you like that, my beautiful boy?”

“Yeessss,” Ben hissed, arching his back as another finger worked in to join it. When a hand wrapped around his erection, he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. Ben was close, getting so close, riding the waves of pleasure when it all stopped, the warmth moving away. He made a sound of dismay at the loss.

“Hang on, just a mo.” A quick squeeze to his thigh settled him.

When Benedict cracked his eyes it was to the sight of Martin rolling a condom over his impressive erection, and slicking it up with more lube. Ben licked his lips, hungry for him, feeling achingly empty.

“There we go. There we go.” Martin crawled over him, pushing his legs up to better mount him. Penetration wasn’t something they did often, but when they did, it was magnificent. Benedict shivered as the tip of Martin’s cock breached him, sliding slowly inward.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Ben had no words, nodding as the rod of steel pushed inward, invading him, filling him, his fingers twisting in the sheets. At first it was too much, the breath caught in his throat, but then he relaxed, stretching to accommodate Martin’s girth as he bottomed out.

“Oh, baby.” Martin bent his head to rest on Ben’s chest, the two of them locked together, as close as they could possibly be. Martin pressed a kiss to his sternum. “Alright?”

“Yes, fff . . . fuck me, please,” Ben stuttered out.

“God, yes.” Martin moved then, pulling out only to push back home, the two of them locked in a rolling rhythm that obliterated all other thought. Ben reached up, sinking his fingers into Martin’s back, hanging on. There was only this, the creak of the bed, the smell of his lover encasing him, filling him, the lovely soft sounds from the back of Martin’s throat with each thrust.  

“Touch yourself,” Martin rasped, his voice pure gravel. “I want to see you touch that beautiful cock.”

Martin moved back, taking more weight on his arms as Ben reached between them to tug at his own erection. The sensations assaulting him from so many directions tumbled over him until with a cry, he fell apart, shooting spurts of warmth over his fingers and belly.

“Oh, God, YES.” Martin came with a bellow, exploding inside him.

When the Earth stopped moving, Martin slipped out carefully, collapsing to lie beside him. Ben, struggling to find his breath again, flopped an arm over him.

“Thank you,” Martin breathed. “God, Ben, thank you,” his voice caught on the words, crumbling until he was shaking, trying to keep in his broken noises, weeping quietly.

Ben gathered him up wordlessly, crushing his lover against him.  They lay hot and sticky, tangled together, Ben’s hand smoothing down Martin’s back over and over.

“Hush now, it’s alright. It’s okay.”

Gradually, Martin stilled, sniffing, composing himself. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m being such a ninny.” He wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

“Ssssh, no, you’re not. It’s a lot to take in, it’s a big loss.” Ben cradled Martin within his arms, wrapped securely over him.

“God, Ben, I’m an idiot.” He pressed his face to Ben’s neck. “I still love her,” he breathed against him. “I do, it’s just we can’t be together anymore. All we did was yell at each other. I . . . I didn’t like who I was becoming with Amanda.”

“Mmm,” Ben hummed, listening quietly.

“The kids though, God, it isn’t their fault. I swore I’d never leave them like my father left me.”  

“Hey, you aren’t leaving them, and you aren’t dying. You’re a good dad, I know you are, I’ve seen you with them. It’ll be a bit wonky at first, but you’ll make things work.”

“I’m not sure how.”

“Give it a little time. You’ll figure things out. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. Please.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Have you told the kids yet?”

“Christ, no. I was waiting until I got home from filming to talk with them. God, _home_ , I don’t even have one now.”  

“Look you’ll get a place sorted soon, and you can stay at mine as long as you need. You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Alright, thanks.” Martin gulped wetly.

“Just a minute.” Benedict rolled off the bed to fetch a box of tissues and a bottle of water. They cleaned off, and passed the water, Martin drinking thirstily.

They lay together awhile longer, talking quietly, Ben pressing kisses to Martin’s forehead until they decided to get up, have a wash, and get ready to sleep.

Ben had a quick shower first, and while Martin was taking his, Ben rang Sophie, glad when she answered on the third ring.

“Hey, love, it’s me.”

“Ben, what’s up?”

“It’s Martin, he’s had bad news. He and Amanda just split.”

“Oh God, I thought so.”

“What, you knew?”

“Well, there were rumors. They were never together, and Amanda’s been seen all cuddled up with Rebecca Callard all over town.” Sophie blew out a breath. “People talk.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” Benedict ran his hand back through his hair.

“I didn’t want to upset you if it wasn’t true. I figured one of them would tell us if they wanted us to know.”

“I suppose so. Listen, Martin needs a place to crash for a few days while he gets his new digs sorted. Do you mind, I offered to have him stay with us?”

“Oh, right. Of course. We’ve got the yellow bedroom with the ensuite. That’s farthest from the nursery.”

“My thoughts exactly. God, Sophie, thanks. You’re brilliant.”

“Of course I am. I married you.”

Ben grinned. “You’re more than I deserve, Soph.”

They spoke a few more minutes before Ben rang off, turning when Martin emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Hey, you. Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about falling apart like that.” Martin laughed shakily.

Ben was across the room, pulling him into his arms in a moment. “Never be sorry for showing me yourself.”

“Oh, Ben.” Martin’s mouth found his, and they kissed deeply, languidly before pulling back to simply hold each other.

They dressed for bed, and crawled back under the covers, shutting off the light to settle down to sleep.

“God, I have to get up at six tomorrow,” Ben groaned. “Off to conquer China in Stephen Strange’s honor.”

“I can’t wait to see you in this movie. I know you’ll be fantastic.”

“Thanks. I just hope it does well at the box office. Strange isn’t your usual Marvel character.”

“Relax, they’ll be fans for this. And all the Cumberbitches will come.”

“Don’t say that name.” Ben winced.

“Oh, don’t be precious.” Martin grinned in the dark. “CUMBERbitches. Come on, most people would kill to have your fan base. Regardless, people will come. The film will do fine.”

“Okay, thanks.” Ben tucked the duvet better over his shoulder.  “When is your flight out tomorrow?”

“Not until the afternoon.”

“Stay in the room. Take your time. It just gets charged back to Marvel.”

“Oh, well then. I’ll be sure to get something extra posh from room service.”

“Martin?” Ben reached out him, drawing him closer.

“Yes, love?”

“Thanks for coming out to Hong Kong. I really appreciated having you here.”

“I really needed to see you. I . . . feel a lot calmer about things.”

“Good. We’ll get through this. All of us.”

“I know, you’re right.” 

Benedict scooted closer to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Silly Man.”

“Love you too, Bad Boy.” Martin reached through the blankets, finding his arse for a squeeze.

“Good night, love.”

“Good night.”

 ***

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright lovelies, I've reached the end of this Holiday gift of fluff and smut (with just a soupcon of angst.) I hope you've enjoyed reading it. I've enjoyed writing it through the darkest days of the year. 
> 
> A quick note from the real world (what's that?) Martin and Amanda just announced officially yesterday that they have indeed split up. News seems to suggest that they were broken up as early as last March, doing the filming of S4 while estranged from one another. (Wow, that's dedication.) In this alternate world, they don't break up until October, but regardless, I wish them and their family all the best in this new chapter of their lives. I do hope they work everything out well.
> 
> To all my readers, I bid you a Happy Solstice, Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's, and any other holiday you might mark at your house. And of course, a very thrilling and happy Sherlock Series 4 to you all! Peace! :)


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